In the weeks I’ve been living in Montepulciano, I often breeze past the Enrico Crociani menswear shop, wave to the distinguished-looking man perched at his elegantly presented counter, and think, “Yes, tomorrow I will go in and have a look.”

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Breckenridge wraps you in its powdery arms without even knowing your name. It makes you feel happy and a little dizzy, and knows you’ll treat it well. And sure enough, you start smiling at strangers, and stop to redeposit the coffee cup that blew out of the garbage.

This is it. It is meltdown friday. The jet lag and two full days finally catch up. We go out for a late breakfast, return and promptly fall asleep. One or two even sit outside by the cement pond overlooking the lake and scan the surface for alligators. The weather is definitely on the turn though still pretty cold.